To Get Me to You Read online

  “Woman, there is no statute of limitations on parental disapproval when you live in the same town. Especially not a small town where everybody knows everybody else. Do you have any idea how hard it was getting away with anything when we were teenagers?”

  “Somehow, I imagine you and Mitch still managed just fine.”

  “Well, necessity is the mother of invention. It was more often me and Tucker McGee and our friend Brody—he’s not here anymore—sometimes Miranda, though she was more goody two shoes. Mitch was three years ahead of us in school.”

  “I can’t wrap my brain around what that’s like. Growing up in one place, having friends for that long. I bounced around so much after my parents’ divorce that I didn’t make connections with people. Not really. Not until Miranda. And if she didn’t hang on as tightly as she does, I don’t know if I’d have kept up with her as well as I have. You’re really lucky to have that.” There was no mistaking the expression of longing on her face.

  Cam didn’t know what to say. He’d never given a thought to having that foundation to fall back on. It simply was. Friends. Family. Community. You fought with them and fought for them because that’s what you did for what you loved. It hurt him to think she’d never known that, and he wondered what she fought for in their stead, wondered, too, why he was aching for a woman he barely knew.

  “We don’t mind sharing.”

  That made her smile. “I know. Which is why I’ve shamelessly adopted your entire family.”

  “Does that make us cousins in a complicated, Southern sort of way? Because this is Mississippi and we definitely don’t need any more fodder for jokes around here.”

  “You mean, like, the fact that there’s still a law on the books that says three women in a room together, barefoot, makes a orgy?”

  “What?”

  “That was a favorite of ours to laugh about at our sorority house in college.”

  “So you’re saying all the fantasies we guys have about sorority houses are true? Pillow fights and sexy pajamas and all?”

  Norah waggled her eyebrows at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Cam sank down on the edge of the fountain that dated back to just after the Civil War. He patted the ledge. “Sit.”

  He liked the neat way she tucked her legs, even in jeans. She always managed to look put together and elegant, which made him wonder what she’d looked like all mussed up.

  “Have you made your wish yet?” He swiveled toward the water so their knees bumped. She didn’t move away.

  “My wish?”

  “Sure.” Cam dipped his fingers into the few inches of frigid rainwater in the basin. Coins glimmered below the surface. “The fountain itself might not have run for years, but people still make wishes. Don’t tell me after all the years you’ve been coming here, you’ve never made a wish.”

  “Never have. I’m much more a If you want something to happen you have to make it happen kind of girl.”

  “There’s a lot to be said for self sufficiency and drive. But sometimes you need a little help.”

  “Does it work?”

  “Mmm, hard to say. When I was sixteen, I wished for a really hot car. Sure enough, I got a hot one all right. The AC never did work in that thing.”

  She laughed. “If that’s not clear illustration that you should be careful what you wish for, I don’t know what is.”

  “Other folks have had better luck. Uncle Pete came here before he proposed to Aunt Liz and wished she’d say yes. Obviously that worked out.”

  Her smile was just a little dreamy. “They’re great together.” She trailed her fingers through the water. “Has the city ever tried to fix it so it’ll run again?”

  “’Bout the time I was in middle school, they did a whole big thing trying to replace the copper pipes out to the springs. They figured it had collapsed somewhere in the last hundred and fifty years or so. But the lines were completely intact. They never did figure out what the problem is.”

  “Wait, the fountain is supposed to be fed from Hope Springs?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s rather poetic, somehow. And sad. Like the fountain dried up as hope in Wishful did.”

  “You think Wishful doesn’t have hope?”

  She looked around what they could see of Main Street, and Cam wondered what she saw. “I think it’s suffered a lot of economic downturns over time, like lots of small towns.”

  “You’re not wrong. We’ve lost a lot of our industry and about a third of our population over the last thirty years.”

  “That weighs on you.”

  Cam arched a brow.

  “You aren’t the only one who’s observant. This is your town. You want to save it.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I do. It’s why I ran for City Council. Well, partly. It started as a means to keep an eye on my mother when she went back to work. Gave me a reason to stop by during the day to check on her without looking like I was checking on her.”

  “Did she buy it?”

  “Of course not. But turns out I actually like the job. Most of the time. Sometimes it’s really frustrating to be in a position to effect change but not actually be able to change a damn thing.”

  “Sounds like you have something to wish for yourself.”

  “So I do.” Cam fished a couple of quarters out of his pocket and placed one in Norah’s hand, letting his fingers linger over her palm. “I will if you will.”

  “Okay.” Her fingers curled around his briefly before sliding away to wrap around the coin.

  When she closed her eyes—probably considering her wording carefully after the warning of his first car—he almost threw caution to the wind and leaned in to kiss her.

  Cam pondered his own wish as he watched her, thinking of fate and chemistry and what might’ve happened if they’d crossed paths back in college. He couldn’t alter the past, but he had a lot more confidence in his ability to impact the future—at least on one point. So when she opened her eyes and said, “On three,” it was the town he thought of.

  I wish for a miracle to save Wishful.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  They tossed their coins, watched them hit the water with a soft plunk.

  The fountain belched.

  Norah jolted and Cam stared as a spurt of water bubbled up from the mouth of the fountain and trickled down the stone. Nothing else. Just that one, short blast of water.

  “Does it usually do that?”

  “Never has for me before.” Strange. Damned strange. “Must be air in the pipes.” He rose. “C’mon. It’s cold. Let’s go get some coffee.”

  ~*~

  Could I drag Cam into the pantry without anyone noticing?

  Norah glanced at the door to the kitchen, wondering what excuse she could concoct to get them both away from the game table. From the other side of the Monopoly board, Cam’s mouth quirked, as if he knew exactly where her thoughts had veered. He probably did. The man had an uncanny ability to read her.

  “Community Chest.” Mitch picked up one of the cards. “Get out of jail free card. Sweet! I’ll just hang on to this. Your turn, sister dear.” He passed the dice to Miranda and game play continued around the table.

  In all the years she’d been coming home with Miranda, Norah had always appreciated the big, messy Campbell family. After being shuttled from one single-parent household to the other for more than half her life, being surrounded by all of them was like being plunked down in the midst of Cheaper By The Dozen, in the best possible way. She’d never had cause to regret that there were quite so many of them. Until Cam.

  By mutual agreement, they’d kept their involvement quiet. The secret was both exhausting and exhilarating. On the surface, Cam was easy with her around his family, adopting a more muted form of the flirtation and teasing she got from Mitch and Reed. But there was nothing muted about the look in his eyes when they met hers and nothing simple about the spark she felt from the brush of his fingers as he handed over the dice. Flustered, Norah st
ruggled not to jerk her hand back.

  Secret Relationship 101: Pretend all is normal.

  Norah rolled the dice, took her turn.

  In the past week, Cam had introduced her to quite a few other life lessons she’d bypassed as a teenager, training her on how to sneak around all his myriad relatives in order to meet him. She hadn’t quite resorted to climbing out her bedroom window and shimmying down the sycamore tree, but a time or two, it had been a near thing. The friend finder app they’d both installed on their phones helped arrange some “accidental” meetings, but it seemed every time they turned around, one or more of the Campbells was popping up to keep her from being bored during her stay. At this point, she’d relish the chance to be bored.

  Play circled back around to Mitch. He rolled the dice and tapped his race car all the way to Park Place.

  Glad of the distraction, Norah held out her hand. “Welcome to the Grand Royale Hotel at Park Place. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. That’ll be $1500, please.”

  Mitch eyed the cash in his hand, before flashing a glib smile. “Maybe we can come to some kind of mutually satisfying arrangement?”

  “This isn’t that sort of establishment, sir.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Your foot is saying otherwise.”

  Norah arched her own brow. “I’m sitting on my feet.”

  “Then who’s trying to play footsie?” Mitch leaned back to check the tangle of legs beneath the table.

  Norah caught the momentary flash of alarm across Cam’s face and nearly erupted into giggles. To cover for them both, she put on a mock stern face. “Your stalling tactics aren’t going to work. Pay up, bucko.”

  Grumbling, Mitch made the necessary arrangements with the bank—aka Uncle Pete—and handed over the cash. “Heartless real estate mogul.”

  “Aw, it’s not personal, sweetie, it’s business.”

  Miranda rolled the dice. “I did warn you, she’s brutal at Monopoly.”

  “Oh, who are you kidding? I’m ruthless at all games. I make no denials or apologies.”

  “And we love you anyway.” Miranda moved her thimble. “Speaking of business, how much longer can you stay away from yours?”

  Norah managed not to look at Cam—barely. He was still the only one she’d told about being fired. And despite the fact that they’d spent every night on the phone, talking till the wee hours about everything under the sun, they’d carefully steered clear of discussing when she was leaving. If we ignore it, the white elephant doesn’t actually exist.

  Except now Miranda had put it right out there. Because if Norah was really here on a true vacation from her former job, she’d absolutely have to be getting back. Damn it.

  “I feel like I just got here.”

  “Well, it is the first vacation longer than a holiday weekend you’ve taken since I moved back home.”

  “Seems a shame to head on back to the city when you only just now slowed down,” Cam remarked.

  Norah glanced at him but saw no censure. He was leaving this news for her, as she’d asked.

  “Do you have the extra leave time to take?” Aunt Liz asked.

  “I’ve got more leave time than I know what to do with.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She’d had almost two months built up when she got axed. Four, if she counted major medical.

  Aunt Liz clapped her hands together. “Then stay a while longer. We haven’t gotten to see you nearly enough this visit.”

  The actual decision was easy. Chicago felt worlds away, and she was in no shape to be making major life decisions at the moment. As Cam had said, she’d only just slowed down. Plus, she wanted—needed—time to explore this unexpected spark with him.

  “There are any number of hungry young neophytes dying to step into my shoes. I expect they’ll find a way to do without me.” Because her face felt suddenly brittle, Norah flashed her best sales smile and changed the subject. “If I asked super sweetly, could I talk anybody else into a fire and hot chocolate?”

  “Yes!” Mitch shot a fist into the air. “A hot chocolate break will give me a chance to plot my comeback.”

  Miranda patted him on the arm. “You hang on to that delusion, big brother. I’ll help with the beverages.”

  “I could use a chance to stretch my legs.” Norah unfolded from her chair. “I’ll get the firewood.”

  Cam pushed back from the table. “I’ll help you. Uncle Pete, make sure Mitch doesn’t mess with the bank.”

  Norah slipped out the door before Mitch finished protesting. The woodpile was at the far side of the yard, flanking the garden shed, well away from the cedar shingles of the house. She’d already made it halfway across the lawn by the time Cam caught up.

  “Hold it. Put this on.”

  Turning, she saw he’d stopped to grab her coat. “It’s not that cold to me. Thicker blood, remember?”

  “Humor me.” He held it so she could slip her arms inside.

  Relenting, she did as he asked, then immediately crossed her arms because she did feel cold. But she knew it had nothing to do with the temperature.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “How did you know?”

  “I know your real smile. That wasn’t it.” Cam squeezed her shoulders. “You okay?”

  “I keep thinking I am, and then something brings it all back up again.

  “It’s gonna keep happening until you tell them.”

  Norah hunched her shoulders. “I know. Doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “I don’t think this kind of thing is ever easy. It’s a Band-aid yank sort of situation.”

  They circled around the wood pile to the back side of the shed.

  “I guess…there’s a part of me that feels like if I keep it to myself, if I don’t actually say it out loud, then it can still go away. That they’ll figure out they’ve shot themselves in the foot and call begging me to come back.”

  “Do you want them to ask you back?”

  “God, yes.” Catching sight of his carefully blank expression, she laid both hands on his arms. “Only so I can tell them to stick it where the sun don’t shine. I couldn’t go back to that. Not knowing what I know now.”

  Cam relaxed and pulled her close. “You’ll figure the rest out, Wonder Woman. I have faith.”

  Norah burrowed in, wrapping her arms around him beneath his open coat. “I’m glad one of us does.”

  He stroked a hand down her hair. “I get that you don’t want to spread this around and why you’re not keen on announcing it to the whole family, but I really think you’ll feel better if you at least talk to Miranda.”

  “I feel better when I’m with you.” She tipped her head back to look at him. “You’re solid. Steady.”

  His lips twisted in an expression that couldn’t be termed a smile. “Yep, that’s me. Solid, steady, boring Cam. Everybody says so.”

  “Then everybody’s wrong. You’re not boring. Not at all. You’re just…subtle,” she decided. “I guess next to Mitch or Reed or Tucker, people probably tend to overlook that.” She slid her hands up to brace on his shoulders, rising to her toes until she was close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. “Solid and steady really works for me.”

  Now he did smile. “Happy to oblige.” Dipping his head, he brushed his lips over hers, testing. They both listened.

  “We have maybe two minutes before somebody starts wondering where we are,” he murmured.

  “Then we’d better make the most of them.”

  Cam’s eyes darkened, his lips curving into a hungry smile that had Norah’s toes curling. He backed her against the shed and boxed her in with his arms. She loved it, loved that instant leap of her heart, the catch of her breath as he took her mouth.Wanting to feel the heat of him, she slid her fingers into the open collar of his shirt to rest against his skin. His pulse thundered, and she loved that, too. How could such a quiet, steady man be so…potent?

  His head snapped up, and Norah made some soft, incoherent sound of
protest before she heard what he’d heard. Footsteps across the dead grass.

  Releasing her, he eased open the door to the shed and stepped inside. “Pull out your phone. Flashlight.”

  She didn’t stop to ask him why, just did as he asked, raising the poor light above her head to partially illuminate the gloom within. Cam was shifting through the contents of the shed when Miranda came around and blocked the light.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Looking for the wood sling,” Cam replied, not a trace of breathlessness in his voice.

  “It was by the back door.” Miranda held it up.

  “My mistake.” Cam stepped out of the shed, apparently back under control. “Norah, you wanna grab some kindling off that end?”

  Norah followed him out and started gathering the smaller bits, as asked, hoping her flush would be attributed to the cold.

  Chapter 6

  Tucker McGee was a hard core flirt. The man practically oozed charm, so the fact that he was currently oozing said charm all over Norah had Cam grinding his teeth and repressing the urge to plant a fist in his friend’s face. He wasn’t concerned Tucker was actually getting somewhere with her, but that was his woman, and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to greet her before Tucker had swooped in to escort her from the car to the refreshment tables. Not that Cam could give her the greeting he wanted with Miranda trailing right behind, looking irritable.

  “—and here, the pièce de résistance, s’mores fixin’s. And over here we have the roasting rods.” Tucker pulled a slim handled rod from a cluster in a tube and handed it to her, hilt first.

  Norah inspected it. The metal was bent back on itself and wrapped to make a sturdy handle. “Swanky. I thought you were supposed to use coat hangers.”

  “That’s for amateurs. We take the art of bonfire to the next level. Do you need a refresher on the proper roasting technique?”

  “I’m not that citified.”

  Tucker held up both hands in a gesture of peace. “Just checking. I didn’t know.”

  “There’s something else you don’t know about me.”

  “And what’s that?”